


A Hands-On Lesson

by nikkitikkitavi



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5242718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkitikkitavi/pseuds/nikkitikkitavi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Neria are having a little trouble in the bedroom. Zevran is always happy to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hands-On Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I haven't written fanfic for like eight years and I've never written porn, so like, yeah, why not write 20 pages of filthy sex for a videogame? Not even Inquisition! No, go with Origins, that's still popular, right?
> 
> Anyways, this is unbetaed, but I've reread it and edited like five times so it should be fairly clear of any glaring errors.

With a frustrated noise, Alistair rolled away to lie on his back, breathing heavily through his nose.

Neria stared up at the canvas of their tent, feeling her own frustration balling her hands up into fists. "This shouldn't be so blasted hard! People have sex all the time, they wouldn't keep doing it if it was as bad as this!"

Alistair rolled back towards her, propping himself up on an arm so he can lean over and stroke her cheek. "We just need more practice. We'll figure it out one of these times. Or maybe," he said thoughtfully, moving his finger back to tap on his chin, "Next time we're in Denerim! We can go to the Black Pearl, they must have some literature we could look at, or maybe some kind of practical demonstration? Of course we'd have to distract everyone else, I don't even want to imagine what Morrigan would have to say on the matter. Maybe we could lose her permanently--"

"Actually," Neria interrupted before he could really get started, "That's sort of what I was thinking."

"What, get rid of Morrigan? I knew even you couldn't put up with her for this lo--"

"No, we could call in outside expertise!"

"Oh, that. Yes, but when do you think we'll next be in Denerim? Perhaps Bodhan has some sort of pamphlet?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of asking Zevran. For...help."

Alistair squinted at her. "The assassin? Really?"

"Well!" she said defensively, "He seems very experienced!"

"Experienced in murder," Alistair muttered.

Honestly, they’d killed enough bandits and angry dwarves that she thought that was splitting hairs, but it made Alistair very unhappy when it came up, so she avoided the topic as much as possible.

Alistair flopped onto the ground, then flipped back towards her, burying his face into her neck and breathing warm, wet air onto the skin there.

Neria raised the arm he wasn't lying on to drape across her own eyes, feeling the flaming-hot skin of her own face against it.

"I really can't think of anything else. And he's our best choice. Unless you think Wynne--"

"Maker, no! It'd be like asking my grandmother! And I just know she’d give me that disappointed look, like when Morrigan accused me of pushing her into the river!"

“You did push her in, Alistair! I saw the whole thing!"

“Well yes, but honestly, if ever a person deserved to be drowned in a river...”

“Anyways. The qunari seem to be...strange about this kind of thing, so Sten is out.”

Alistair shuddered theatrically. “He’s good to have in a fight, no doubt about that, but I wouldn’t trust him with the more tender parts of my anatomy. Oghren--”

“Ugh,” she said, and they both take a moment to grimace at the thought. “He’s handsy enough, I wouldn’t want to give him any ideas. Which leaves Leliana and Zevran.”

“Seems a bit sacrilegious,” Alistair said with a grimace.

“She’s only a lay sister, but...yes, still. And Zevran--”

"Zevran never shuts up about his sex life, yes, you've got me there," he conceded. "Zevran it is. When shall we speak to him?"

He tilted his head out of her neck to meet her eyes, and looking at his kind, handsome face, the hair scrubbed rakishly up from yet another failed sexual encounter, she could feel the faint, unsatisfied desire twirling her belly. "Tomorrow," she said firmly. "We'll fix this tomorrow."

...

The following day was slow, as far as battle was concerned. They'd met a small contingent of darkspawn on their way to the Dalish encampment, but other than that the roads were clear.

They were still a day or two's travel out from the forest itself, but Neria figured that if the Dalish held true to all the other treaty parties, they'd end up running around solving some damn fool problem for them too before they would agree to uphold the treaties, so she wasn't pushing her group as fast as they could go. Taking a day more than they necessarily needed wouldn't bring the world down on them any faster, despite what Sten loudly and regularly complained.

So she called camp fairly early, mid afternoon, and told everyone to take a break, see to their equipment and catch up on sleep if they could. "We're almost to the end of our journey, make sure you're all as prepared as possible!"

After she'd set up their tent, she caught Alistair's eye, gestured him over as subtly as she could. "What do you think," she asked, "Should we try now or wait and ambush him after dinner?"

Alistair looked back to the campfire, where Morrigan and Leliana were already arguing about how to season the game Dog had caught on the way. "It looks like it won't be long now. Let's wait? Maker knows how long this could take. Do you think I should borrow some vellum from Wynne to take notes?"

"How would you like explaining that if anyone ever found it?"

Alistair pulled a face. "Point taken. I'll just have to exercise the old brain."

...

Once they'd all eaten, and Morrigan had retreated to her distant tent--"Out of hearing of this mess, thank the Maker!" Alistair had groaned skyward--the two of them skirted around the edge of camp until they came to where Zevran was mixing up poisons, just barely within the ring of light cast by the fire.

"Hello, my friends!" he called out, "What can I do for you this lovely evening? If you would like someone to serenade the two of you outside your tent, I'm afraid it will have to wait until this is finished. And Leliana has the better singing voice, much as it pains me to admit. My tongue has other talents, of course," he paused in his work to get in a good leer, "But alas! You still have to wait for this to be finished to make use of it."

Neria took a deep breath, feeling Alistair's hand clench in hers. "Actually, that was sort of what we wanted to talk to you about."

Zevran was a well-trained professional, so he didn't do anything so crass as fumble his poisons or drop any of his vials, but he did set them down rather harder than she thought he’d meant to.

“Er, pardon, you want to talk about--”

Better to get it out there; like attacking an ogre, you just had to ready your staff and not think about it too hard. “Sex. We need to talk to you about sex.”

Zevran couldn’t be thrown off his game for very long, she would admit that: already his rakish expression was back in place, eyebrow raised, smirk outrageous. “My dear Wardens, anything to help the cause! Now by my estimation, you’ve only been sharing a tent for a week; surely you haven’t already become bored with each other? Of course I can offer some advice to spice things up, but at the rate you’re burning through--”

“No! No, Zev, it’s not that! It’s...well...”

He gave her an encouraging look, which of course was still roguish enough to make her blush, even if the subject itself hadn’t already burned her face up to the color of Leliana’s hair. “We, uh, we’ve been having some...trouble.”

“Trouble?” Zevran asked. He circled a hand in the air. “I’ll need a little more than that. Even I, sex god that I am, am lacking in omniscience!”

Alistair, who up to this point had been switching from staring intently at his boots to intently at the sky, suddenly dropped her hand to slap across his face. “Maker! We can’t do it! We need your help!”

“And by ‘it,’” Zevran said, slowly, a look of horrified comprehension dawning across his face, “You mean...?”

“Sex!” Alistair burst out, pulling his hand away from his face to gesture wildly. “We can’t figure it out! At all!”

Neria couldn’t help the wild-eyed look she shot behind her, hoping desperately that they were far enough away that no one had heard any of that. They may have all been travelling to their deaths together, but there were some things she’d rather keep from spreading around.

“Sweet Andraste,” Zevran said. She whipped her head back around; she’d never heard Zevran sound so horrified, not fighting darkspawn, not killing possessed mages in the Circle, not even when they’d caught a glimpse of the archdemon down in the Deep Roads. “But--but you’ve been sharing a tent for days! Surely you’ve--! Truly, nothing?!”

Alistair let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Nothing. We just--we can’t.”

“Why in Andraste’s name didn’t you come to me before this? The world could be ending in days! And it’s up to you Grey Wardens to save it, the least you deserve are some mutual orgasms! This is a travesty! Truly, you are lucky I was sent to kill you.”

“We thought we could figure it out!” Neria said. This was all so frustrating and humiliating, she was almost hoping for a darkspawn attack; surely that would wipe this entire conversation from Zevran’s memory and she and Alistair could get back to not having sex. “People have been doing it since the beginning of time, it shouldn’t be so complicated that we can’t get it right ourselves!”

There was a look of resolve on Zevran’s face that usually only came out when he was getting ready to stealth-attack an enemy. “I will help you as best I can. Let us start with the basics. Surely you’re familiar with masturbation at least? You know you have to take off your clothes? The fun bits are in your smallclothes area?”

Neria could feel her knees beginning to shake, adrenaline finally wearing off and delayed horror and denial taking it’s place. She could take on a few ogres and golems, no problem, but Maker preserve her when it came to this topic. She sat down on the ground so she could hide it better, tugging Alistair down to sit beside her with a thump of heavy armor.

“Yes!” Alistair shouted, before she gave his arm a few frantic hits and he lowered his voice, “Yes. We know about that. We understand the basic mechanics, all right, we just can’t seem to--to get things going!”

“Well, that’s a start at least. Maker, a Templar and a Circle mage. I don’t know what they teach you if you can’t even--”

“It’s not like there are a lot of women in the Templar order! And they didn’t exactly encourage us to...become friendly with the local population!”

“Of course,” Zevran said dismissively, “And it’s not like you could have stopped in at a brothel to get a little educated, hm?”

She hadn’t thought it was possible for Alistair to turn any redder, but there he went, going an admirably brighter shade that clashed horrifically with his hair. She thought it probably spoke poorly of her character that it made her want to give him a kiss.

“A brothel--?! You think the Chantry would look kindly on a Templar entering that kind of place?!”

“No, but I’m sure they gave the local one a fairly brisk business, regardless of what the Chantry would or would not think of it.”

Before they got too far along, Neria decided to interrupt. They couldn’t stay out here unbothered indefinitely. Eventually someone would get curious, even if it was just Dog.

“Mages in the Circle are...discouraged from that sort of thing. Becoming involved with a Templar is out of the question, and apprentices sleep together in dormitories, so it’s pretty impossible to...explore that kind of thing.”

“What, completely?” Zevran asked. “Do you mean to say you’ve never touched yourself at all? You’re as pure as the driven snow?”

“I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that! But I suppose it’s not exactly _wrong_.” She managed to avoid Zevran’s sharp eyes, as well as Alistair’s sad ones, by staring at her hands, scrunched up into fists on top of her bent knees.

“So you see our problem. _I_ have no idea what to do, and _she_ has even less of one! And I hope you appreciate how excruciating this has been for us!”

“Well, my friends, luckily I am more than knowledgeable enough for the three of us! I shall start at the basics and we can work from there, yes?”

“Agreed,” Alistair said, rather forcefully.

She looked up at him tentatively. Alistair looked determined, dead set on learning everything he could to make it as enjoyable as possible for them both. He’d been so disappointed, over and over, that he was unable to do anything for her this past week. After some false starts, and pointers from him, she’d managed to jerk him off to orgasm the other day, but he’d refused to let her do it again when it became clear that neither of them could figure out how to do the same for her, let alone tackle penetrative sex.

“We appreciate it, Zev,” she agreed.

“Wait until you actually go back to your tent and put my lessons to practice, darling, then you’ll truly appreciate me.” He gave an outrageous wink. “Now then, when two people love each other very much--Hmm...” He trailed off into silence.

“Yes...? We don’t exactly have all the time in the world, here!”

“Well,” Zevran said, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he looked almost flustered. Must have been the wavering light of the fire. “It’s not like I’ve ever been called on to be teacher! This is rather new to me, I’m trying to figure out how best to go about it! Perhaps if I had some props--”

“Puppets?” Alistair asked.

“Yes, that might work--do you happen to have any? Oh,” Zevran narrowed his eyes as he realized Alistair was teasing him. “I could still kill you and beg my way back into the Crows, I hope you know?”

“I’m sure it will go so much smoother than last time--”

“Honestly!” Neria said, exasperated. “Wynne’s been in the Circle for years, she must be used to apprentices asking for help with this sort of thing.”

Both men froze and turned to look at her. “Neria, you _promised_ \--”

“I did no such thing! We both agreed that Zevran would be the best choice, but this doesn’t seem to be working out and,” she leaned forward and lowered her voice to a hiss, hoping to fend off any eavesdroppers, “I would like to have one successful orgasm before I have to go kill a monstrous old dragon god! Even if that means I have to talk to Wynne or,” here she pinned a glare to Alistair, “ _Morrigan_.”

“ _Neria_! You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I? I’m sure that as soon as she knew what I was asking about, Morrigan would be more than happy to help.”

Alistair had turned almost white as all the blood drained from his face. “Betrayed by my fellow Grey Warden! You win, all right?” He sat back down and plastered what was surely supposed to be a contrite look on his face. “Take your time,” he said to Zevran, “I’m listening.”

There was a thoughtful look slowly sliding over Zevran’s face to replace the shock. “Hm. I didn’t realize you were both so serious about this. Obviously I am not prepared for a purely hypothetical lesson, but perhaps...Now, don’t overreact, it’s just a suggestion,” he threw a narrow look over to Alistair, “And remember that I’m only trying to help the two of you! Perhaps this would be best with a practical demonstration?”

She glanced over at Alistair, whose face was scrunched up in confusion to match her own. “Practical demonstration...?”

“I mean, perhaps an expert could join you in your tent tonight, to oversee? And to lend a hand, so to speak, if it turns out to be necessary.”

“Oh,” she said.

Alistair’s face had smoothed out, and she watched the motion of his adam’s apple as he swallowed convulsively. “Oh,” he repeated.

Zevran, glancing back and forth between the two of them, spread his hands wide. “Yes?”

She raised an eyebrow at Alistair, who raised one back before making a face and shrugging, then turned back to Zevran. “Yes. Please, join us.”

The smile that broke out on his face was as roguish as usual, but more delighted than she was used to seeing. “Excellent! Let me just clean up here and I will join you shortly.”

Neria got to her knees before grabbing hold of Alistair’s shoulder, using it to push herself to her feet and then grabbing a hand and tugging until he stood as well. “Okay,” she said, trying to ignore the nerves in her voice, “We’ll see you there.”

...

The walk back to their tent was awkward, to say the least. It was nearly as bad as the first time she had invited him to join her, and they’d had to duck in under the watchful eyes of all of their companions still around the campfire. At least this time, no one batted an eyelash as Alistair held open the tent flap for her before following her in.

Alistair cleared his throat as they settled down on the blankets. “So,” he began, drawing it out until she flicked his arm. “Ow! No need to be mean!” He paused for a moment before asking, “So we’re doing this, huh?”

She couldn’t stop herself from clearing her own throat nervously. “Looks like. Do you think he’ll wait until everyone else is asleep or--”

Neria was interrupted by Zevran outside the tent, loudly wishing everyone a good night’s sleep. “We’ll try not to keep you up, but no promises!” he finished, before swinging open the flap and sailing in.

“Flames!” Alistair exclaimed as Neria groaned into her hand. “Did you have to do that? We may have to look them in the eye tomorrow! And--oh, sweet Andraste, did Morrigan hear you? Please tell me she was asleep, or off summoning demons in the woods?”

“I believe she was reading from her grimoire by the fire--”

“Maker!”

“Zevran,” Neria hissed, “You’re a blasted rogue, couldn’t you have used some of that stealth to sneak in here?”

“And ruin the fun?” When she growled at him, Zevran raised his hands placatingly and gave her an enticing smile. “Now, Warden, they would have heard us talking in here regardless, would they not? Besides, this will only enhance your legend, bedding an ex-Templar and a dashing ex-Antivan Crow on the same night! Imagine the tales the bards will sing!”

She didn’t even bother trying to muffle her anguished noise, but before she could start in on him again, Zevran began unbuckling his leather armor, quickly loosening and removing it before pulling off the linen shirt he wore underneath to stop chafing. “Uh,” she started, eyes skipping over the lean muscles of his chest, so different from the hard bulk of Alistair. Speaking of...

When she slit her eyes to the side, Alistair looked no better than she, staring at the planes of Zevran’s chest, the blush on his face slowly deepening. Well, that was good, at least, she certainly wouldn’t feel bad for appreciating Zevran’s body if Alistair felt the same.

“I thought, perhaps,” Zevran said, his voice sly, “That we could do some hands-on work, yes?” Again, she turned to look at Alistair; this time she found he was already watching her, eyebrow up and smile trembly, nervous. “Yes?” he asked her, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

Neria made a grab for her own shirt-hem, throwing it over her head and into a corner of the tent. “Yes,” she agreed, shuffling forward on her knees to finish pulling his shirt off.

She’d started to go for his pants when Zevran held up a finger. “One moment, darling. If I may?” He held out his hand to her, gallant, and she had a moment’s hesitation, a quick look to Alistair, who shrugged and nodded, before she moved forward to take it, let him pull her in close.

He smiled down at her for moment, then leaned in for a kiss, a soft, brief touch of their lips, before he swept his mouth over, up her cheek to pause at the corner of her eye, then back down, smooth and petal-soft before he came to rest on her lips again, soft and warm until she couldn’t stop herself from opening her mouth, letting her tongue dart out to touch those soft lips of his.

He opened his own, gave her a quick taste of his tongue before he moved away, dragging his lips down her chin to her throat, a brief detour to the soft hollow behind her ear, gentle lick and suck that made her gasp, surprised, made her belly start to fill with that warm golden light, before he was moving down to her chest, mouth moving over the cloth she bound her breasts beneath. “Alistair,” he said, and she startled, remembering him there behind her, watching Zevran do this to her; that golden, breathless feeling liked it, liked that Alistair was watching him make her feel so good, hoped that he was getting hard beneath his breeches watching. “Come here,” said Zevran, and there was the shuffle of Alistair moving up behind her, the heavy rasp of his breathing in her ear as his hands came up to rest on her waist.

Zevran picked up one of his hands, gave the palm a soft kiss before he gave Alistair’s first finger a lick, tongue swirling briefly around the nail bed before he sucked it deep into his mouth, his cheeks hollowed--and Alistair’s free hand clenched, spasmodic, on her hip, he drew in his breath in a sharp gasp before it stuttered free--she thought, watching, that she could maybe think of something else he--or--she--could put in his mouth like that.

He released Alistair’s finger with one final lick, straight up from the palm until the tip sat, briefly, on the edge of his tongue, before he moved it to that hollow behind her ear. “She likes it when you kiss here,” he said. “Keep her entertained for a moment, won’t you?”

Alistair pulled back the curtain of her hair, kept it pinned to her head as he moved in, hot breath on her neck before his hotter mouth settled in.

There was movement in front of her, and Neria managed to pull her attention away from Alistair long enough to realize that Zevran was untucking the ends of her breast-bind, unwinding it to leave her bare, before Alistair pulled back, giving her one last suck, one last lick to the chilled skin, tongue hot and making her shiver, making her nipples peak, hard and obvious to Zevran.

Who...was taking his pants off. Alistair rested his chin on her shoulder, hand moving back to her waist to clench again, sharply, as Zevran pushed his pants past his hips, smalls caught up with them, his erection pulling free to bob lightly against his stomach. There was a soft punch of air against her neck as Alistair breathed out, as Zevran threw his pants in the corner and gave them another sly smile. “From your shocked and awed silence, shall I take it that you are impressed?” he asked them.

She swallowed convulsively, could feel from the movement of his chin digging into her shoulder that Alistair did the same as they looked at his tan, wiry body. “You’re beautiful, Zev,” she said.

His smile moved from sly to something sweeter. "Thank you, darling Warden. But I pale in comparison next to you! Common elfroot hides its head in shame when crystal grace is near!"

She laughed in delight: here he was, with her half undressed and still flirting like a fiend.

"Alistair, did you forget what you were supposed to be doing?"

"I got...distracted. You're very distracting."

"Please, Warden, you'll make me blush!" he cried. "But back to it, please! And if you'd like to give your hands something to do," she watched as he moved forward enough to put his hands on Alistair's, still clutching her waist, and pulled them up to her breasts. "Start off gently here, and see what she likes, won't you?"

Alistair's hands cupped her breasts, feeling their slight weight before moving up to her nipples, which stiffened more at the attention.

After a brief caress, Zevran's hands trailed down her belly to rest on the buttons holding her pants together. They paused there, long enough that she finally dragged her attention away from Alistair's soft strokes and increasingly hard pinches, and up to Zevran's face. "May I take these off?" he asked.

Alistair pinched especially hard--surprise, she thought, or anticipation; this was already going immeasurably better than their previous attempts--so her "Please!" came out in a gasp.

He didn't fumble with the buttons, not even with her writhing between Alistair's hands and her own anticipation. Lots of practice, she thought, with a zing of excitement shooting through her.

It was a little awkward, maneuvering out of pants with one man feeling up her top half and another stroking lingering caresses down her thighs and calves as he pulled down her trousers, but they managed handily, and then she was bare in front of them, feeling that golden airy twirl down low in her stomach again at the thought.

Zevran leaned down, slid a kiss against her inner thigh before smiling up at her. "Crystal grace," he said.

Her own smile was wide, full as she was to the brim with happiness. She hadn't wanted to leave the Circle to go to war, or to take on the responsibility that had been forced on them as the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, but she was so happy she'd met these men, that they were here in this tent with her tonight.

"Now," Zevran said, looking behind her at Alistair, "I would hardly say this is fair, would you, Neria? Here we are, naked as our Name Day, and Alistair is still wearing pants!"

"Shall we take them off of him?" she asked.

"An excellent plan, darling! I'll hold the fiend down, you dispose of the trousers!" He pounced as she tugged free of Alistair, dropping to the tent floor and rolling to the side as Zevran collided, dragging Alistair to the floor and straddling his waist, laughing down at him.

She moved back to her knees, crawling forward until she was level with his waist, staring down at Zevran and Alistair, kissing deeply, tongues just visible and glistening in the gaps between their mouths before she remembered her task.

She laid one hand on Zevran's thigh, warm and strong under her before she went to work on Alistair's breeches, her own hands trembling with desire as she pulled buttons free, distracted once or twice by the way Alistair bucked into her glancing touches, the way his hips flexed up and Zevran rode the motion, hunched over and still kissing, the slick sound of it raising the heat on the back of her neck.

Finally she had them undone and reached in, still tentative, to touch his cock, pull it out from the vee of his opened pants. There was a stifled, pained groan from the tangle up front as she gave it a brief stroke hello before beginning to yank down his trousers.

When they were off and in a tangle somewhere and all three of them were finally naked, she stuck her hand back between them, into the warm and damp with sweat pocket between their bodies so she could wrap her hand around a dick.

Zevran made an interested noise at the whine that came out of Alistair’s mouth, moved far enough away that he could see what she was doing, lifting his body off of Alistair to settle by his side. “I see we're not starting _completely_ from scratch, hm?”

“Neria, please,” Alistair panted, his hips shifting restlessly as he pushed up into her hand, “If you don't stop that, I’ll--I’m--”

As she started to pull her hand away, though, Zevran’s clamped down on hers, holding it in place and forcing her to continue. “You're young and the night is just beginning! You'll be ready again in no time.”

“Oh, Maker,” Alistair gasped out, and then he was coming, his seed neatly collected in her palm.

She couldn't stop herself from making a revolted face. Last time this had happened, she'd wiped her hand on Alistair’s shirt--only fair, she thought--but there was no discrete way to do that with Zevran’s bright eyes on her.

“I can take care of that,” he said, grabbing her wrist and bringing her hand up to his mouth, where he--Maker!--began to lick up the mess.

She could feel the grimace twisting up her face, even as the feeling of his quick, nimble tongue tracing the lines of her palm made her fingers tingle.

“It's something of an acquired taste,” Zevran explained, “Would you like to try?” He held out her hand, and she looked at it, the last little glob of come, her skin quickly cooling even in the overheated tent after the warmth of his mouth.

She leaned forward and lapped it up, considering the taste as she did so. Nothing so fine as the pastries they'd bought in Denerim, but then again, not nearly as foul as any of Oghren’s “ale.”

When she looked up, both Zevran and Alistair were staring at her, matching looks of hunger on their faces. “A taste I could enjoy acquiring,” she said pointedly, after a moment's thought to what might drive them the most insane. Alistair, she noticed, was already hardening up again.

Zevran shot her a look of pure, playful evil. “Warden, you are delightful! We will come back to that, I promise, but if Alistair is fully recovered, I thought perhaps we could try something else?”

“I'm not certain I'll ever fully recover, but go on,” Alistair said.

Zevran gave them a devilish smirk, the kind that always preceded some absolutely filthy remark designed to shock Wynne out of her boots. “Put your head between her thighs and return the favor, why don't you?”

The two of them stared, frozen, matching blushes flaring across their faces. Zevran’s smirk only grew, but he placed a gentle hand between her breasts and gave her a nudge. “Switch places, please. Yes, up you come,” he put out a hand and pulled Alistair upright when he grabbed it, then pushed her shoulder until she spread herself out on the floor, “--And down you go. Very good!”

He sat back and gestured forward at them. “I'll give pointers if you like, but truly this will go best if Neria directs you herself.”

Alistair raised a brow and gave her a shrug before settling himself between her legs--startled, she spread them wide to accommodate his broad shoulders, tensing nervously even as she did it. “I don't know why you think I'm going to be any help, you know I've n--oh!”

Tentatively, Alistair’s tongue reached out again and gave her a quick lick. It was--muscular, wet, and it made her abruptly aware of how wet she was.

“Oh,” she said again, as Alistair’s hand crept up under her ass to touch, as a finger slid inside her, just like that, no problem. Nothing at all like their previous frustrating, failing attempts, when she'd stayed dry and tight, when even his finger had hurt and they'd given up on the idea of anything more.

But this--sweet Andraste, this was worth those fumbling attempts. The finger withdrew, spread her slickness around before it went away entirely, both of his hands moving to shove her legs up and over his shoulders to give himself a better angle.

There was a hand touching her own, Zevran’s sly voice in her ear as he untangled her hands from the canvas floor and brought them up to Alistair’s head. “Don't be too shy to show him what you like, darling.”

Her hands clenched involuntarily in Alistair’s hair as he licked over a particularly sensitive place, and he groaned at the tug of it. “There!” she pleaded, and pulled harder when he sealed his lips over her clit and sucked, tongue stroking when he took a break to breathe.

“Good, very good; you're both doing so well!” Zevran praised. “Alistair, keep that up, I believe she's almost there.”

While Alistair went back to work, Zevran moved a hand to her nipple, tweaking it before leaning down to give her a kiss.

She could feel it, building large inside her, and it was almost frightening; it felt _too_ big, like she would shake all apart, so that she almost wanted to call it off, pull Zevran from her mouth and Alistair from her thighs and forget about it, but then it was _there_ , it was happening, her knees were clamping on Alistair’s neck, her fingers were tugging his hair, she was biting Zevran’s lip and she was _gone_ , pleasure cresting through her belly, reaching out through her toes and fingertips, near enough to an elemental spell bursting out of her that if she'd still been in her head she might have worried.

When she came back, there were no fires or icicles hanging from the ceiling, so she figured that was just the normal way of it.

Alistair was breathing wetly between her thighs, and she listened to his breathing slowly calm down, listened to her own gasping breaths follow his own.

"Excellent!" Zevran said. "You're a natural, Alistair! Now, do it again."

"What?" she said, moving to sit up and pull away, but Alistair's hands had clamped down on her hips, thumbs sliding into the sweet spot where her thighs bent into the hip, and she was left half-off the ground, abs working to keep herself levered even that high.

She immediately collapsed back down to the floor when Alistair gave a long lick up her slit before closing his mouth around her clit and sucking.

"Andraste!" she breathed out, barely stopping the shriek that wanted to slip out. The aftershocks that had started to cool down were reignited by his mouth; she could feel herself soft and wet, and it made her restless, made her thighs shift and twitch around Alistair's head.

There was a soft touch as Zevran brushed hair out of her face, leaning in over her to lay a kiss on her cheek. "Andraste indeed," he said. "We have a legend in Antiva, though the Chantry tries its best to stamp it out. It's said that the Maker loved his bride so much that he made it so that all women could reach their pleasure multiple times in a night. Why, I knew a woman who could come six times in one hour!"

"Six--!"

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “That’s a bit advanced for you. We need you to be in fighting condition tomorrow.”

It was faster, this time. She was already so wet, she could smell herself, damp and musky, wafting up every time Alistair came up for air, and the smell of it ratcheted her up even more, a sweet cramp starting up in her stomach.

She could hear herself breathing, raspy and too-loud, and she reached up and grabbed at Zevran where he knelt above her, varying between smiling down at her and leaning over to whisper undoubtedly filthy advice and encouragement in Alistair’s ear, pulled him down so she could smother her noises against his mouth.

She was too close, too on edge to do much more than pant into his mouth, but Zevran seemed happy enough to trace the inside of her mouth, to nip at her lips and let her groan into him as she shuddered and twisted around Alistair. When she came this time, it felt bigger; a swelling tide that swept her up and left her feeling open, her hips loose and giving as they slowly unclenched from around Alistair and spread themselves wide.

With one last nip, Zevran pulled back, smoothing her sweaty hair back as he sat up. “Well done, Alistair!”

Neria forced her head to roll forward enough to see Alistair, mussed hair and heaving chest, look up from his spot between her thighs. His entire lower face was wet, lips shiny even before his tongue came out to swipe over them. She felt a throb of arousal just looking at him, felt another when his glassy, pleasure-soaked eyes met her own. “Oh,” she managed, feeling it like a sword pommel to the chest, almost choking on how much she wanted him.

“Please--” she started, but Alistair must have felt the same, must have known what she wanted, because before she could even articulate it to herself, he was surging up her body, the hot drag of his muscles along hers sparking mini-bursts of desire everywhere they touched, until finally their mouths could touch. It was a hot shock when his wet lips met her own, the damp on his cheeks rubbing against her own, his no doubt tired tongue moving against her own with new, shiver-inducing flavor.

After a frenzied moment, he moved back, his weight on the forearms boxing her in. “When this blasted journey is over,” he said, “I think we should try to break that six in an hour record. I was just getting the hang of it, really.”

She gripped his shoulders to stop him when he made a move to slither back down. “Alistair! You’ll kill me! Zevran, stop him!”

He chuckled, warm and filthy, and she turned her head to better see him. “Really, Alistair, if you keep this up you’ll both be useless tomorrow, and who will get the blame, hm? Honestly, your jaw must be sore by now anyways, no?”

“Not really?” Alistair said, bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw, balancing above her with the other, effortless and ridiculously strong.

“He is used to giving it a workout, talking nonstop all day,” Neria threw in, moving her own hands up to massage at the hinges of his jaw.

Alistair made a face, “And here I thought you _liked_ the sound of my voice--”

“Is that true?” Zevran asked, thoughtful. When they turned to look at him, he clarified, “Not sore?”

“Well, no more than after a very fine feast. Or an afternoon talking. Yes, okay, Neria, alright, you said it first, you were right!”

“Then perhaps you would like to try your hand--or mouth, as it may be--on something else?”

“On something...oh!” Neria watched as Alistair’s gaze drifted down his body, paused significantly, then bumbled back up. “Well, Duncan did always emphasize the importance of versatility in Wardens."

"Excellent!" Zevran said. "Now, you can apply much of the same principles you just learned in this, too."

"Big words," Alistair said. His eyes had begun to glaze slightly as he remembered just what he had learned.

"Darling," Zevran moved his attention back to Neria, "His mind does wander, does it not? Ah well, much can be forgiven in one as strapping and good with a sword as he."

She gave him a smile in return. "Plus he's rather good with his tongue."

"Oh, what scandal! If only stuffy old Wynne could see you now, dear Warden!"

"It's not like I'm the brains of this operation," Alistair interjected, apparently back from his trip down memory lane. "Neria tells me where to point the sword, I cut down whatever's on the other end. It's been working so far, hasn't it?"

"Admirably well, Alistair. Now, can you follow my lead for the rest of the night? I promise I'll put you back in our Warden's lovely hands come morning."

Alistair gave him a quizzical look. "Isn't that what I've been doing all night? I do trust you, Zevran. Even if you didn't make the best first impression--"

"Ah me, will I never hear the end of that assassination attempt?"

"It's not so much the assassining as it is the utter failure. We've fought mabari who gave a better try."

"Hey now!" Neria elbowed Alistair in the ribs, "Mabari are the biggest, meanest, smartest killers I know!"

"You Fereldans and your dogs," Zevran sighed.

"I know, Neria! I was just saying, in comparison Zevran's efforts fall a little short! Regardless! Despite a shaky start, I do trust you, Zevran." He stooped down slightly so he could meet Zevran's eyes, put his hands on his shoulders and gave a quick stroke down his arms that lingered at his wrists. "I trust you," he said. "I trust you to keep Neria safe and watch my back and not poison our dinner, and I trust you to teach me how to pleasure a man with my mouth!"

There was a short, shocked silence. Neria put an arm around Alistair's neck and leaned forward to tangle her other hand in with theirs, fifteen fingers wrapped around each other like yarn at the bottom of the basket.

"Did you think, after all this time, that we didn't trust you?" she asked.

Zevran gave a start, brought his gaze up from their hands and gave a short laugh. "Of course not! Look at this face! Eminently trustworthy!"

She frowned, opened her mouth to argue with him, but he blew right over her. "Enough talk! There will always be time for talk, but loving? That is something to savor."

Alistair turned to her, checking in, and she gave him a nod. If Zevran wasn't ready to hear it, he wasn't ready. There was time yet on their journey to convince him he was a welcome member of their party.

Zevran untangled their fingers and thought for a moment before laying down. "It will be easier for you from this angle. Come, just like with Neria."

She watched as Alistair took a breath, lowered himself down to his elbows and slanted his eyes towards her. "Any advice?"

"You’re more of an expert than I am, Alistair! But if you’re that desperate, here's some advice: you shouldn’t keep a man waiting when his dick’s an inch from your face!”

With a jolt, Alistair's eyes flew away from her face and back to the man whose legs he rested between. "Very rude," Zevran said, smirk growing as he lowered himself back down to the floor. "But I'm sure you can make it up to me. Templars are always such polite young men if you're not a mage! Although I have been told that my fingers are magica--"

He cut himself off with a heartfelt groan as Alistair took the initiative and licked up his cock. He pulled off when he hit the tip, paused to consider before he turned back to Neria. "Different," he said, contemplative, "Not bad." He angled Zevran's dick so he could put the flat of his tongue against the head, left it there for a moment before he licked, looked to her again. "Do you think--"

Zevran suddenly sat up enough that he could grab a fistful of Alistair's hair, pull him around so they could see each other clearly. "If you keep teasing me like that, I'll have to steal you away from our fearless leader over there, permanently. You know how I love a tease, darling," he directed over to her.

She surprised herself with a bark of a laugh. "I'd like to see you try, assassin."

"Oh, I would succeed; no one can withstand Zevran Arainai when he puts his mind to it! But since you are busy saving Thedas, I shall not trouble you with such meager hassles as love duels."

"Very kind," she said, before sliding forward the inch or so she'd needed to be able to touch them. "Is he doing well?"

Alistair, who'd apparently become bored during their little talk, had resumed his exploration of Zevran's cock, one hand unmoving around the base, the other gently handling his balls as Alistair licked carefully up the shaft. He paused a moment to grumble, "I'm trying to concentrate here, Neria! I don't need you back there all--all sultry!"

Zevran, curled up over Alistair's back, gave her a smirk when she directed her baffled look his way. "Sultry! I'm just sitting here, Alistair! I asked a question! Honestly!"

Alistair caught her eye and gave her, from what she could see of his face, she assumed to be a fierce glare. "Distracting!" he hissed, freeing a hand to gesture at her.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude?" she hissed back.

Alistair made a vulgar noise and began unfolding himself before Zevran's hand clamped onto the back of his neck. "Children, please! Warden, get over here; let's see how well Alistair can perform under real distraction."

Neria shuffled forward the last inch so she could lean against Zevran, watched in interest as he gave a ruffle to Alistair's hair before he removed his hand and put it on her instead. It curled around her waist, pulling her snug against the lean muscles of his waist, giving himself more room to work before it swept down between her legs and began ghosting over her clit.

She let out a little squeak and then, as he found a rhythm that allowed firmer touches, felt herself go loose and liquid, her hips stuttering out little movements until pleasure wins out over embarrassment and she lets herself move like she wants, steadily rubbing herself against Zevran's fingers, little hiccups of pleasure escaping.

There's moaning from below, deep and masculine, and when she manages to work her eyes open, she turns her head so she can meet Alistair's gaze, hot and hungry from between Zevran's legs.

He has most of Zevran's dick in his mouth, and what isn't is being taken care of by his hand, but his eyes are all for her. He's flushed pink and sweaty, and even with his mouth full he looks ravenous, like as soon as he's done with Zevran he'll be moving back between her legs.

She shudders at the thought, thinks she can feel herself getting sodden, swollen, knows it for sure when Zevran's fingers abandon her clit to slide down the damp slit of her and nestle themselves, two as easy as nothing, deep inside her.

"Oh!" she squeaks again, more startled than anything, at how perfectly well they fit, at how nice it feels, still amazed by it when everything she and Alistair had tried by themselves had only ended in frustration and discomfort. Then Zevran twists them, crooks his fingers inside her and the vague pleasure she'd felt jumps full blown, makes her jerk in place on him, makes her shoot her hand down to clamp onto his wrist so there's no question of him removing those fingers.

There's damp breath against her temple for a moment, Zevran just breathing wetly before he lays a kiss there, fingers thrusting gently in and out of her, his own breathing coming faster and faster in time with her own, with his fingers, and when she can make her eyes focus enough to look, Alistair between his legs is staring, hands and mouth moving frantically over Zevran's dick before Zevran's fingers spasm inside her, before he reaches out his free hand to grip a warning, tug back on Alistair's hair, and Alistair is spluttering and choking, come dripping from his mouth before he rises up, hand moving to his own dick red and hard between his thighs.

She can't look away from it, feels the sweet ache of Zevran's fingers in her and wants more, wants that, wants it now, and she reaches out to grasp Alistair's shoulders and haul him in for a filthy kiss, made dirtier by the traces of come in his mouth.

"Sweet Andraste," Zevran wheezes, pulling his fingers free, slithering up against her back. "What are they teaching you Wardens? I'm halfway convinced to sign myself up."

"Must be natural talent," Neria pants. "Alistair's the only Warden I've known for more than a few weeks."

"Natural talent, indeed," Zevran purred. "And an excellent tutor, if I do say so myself."

"Yes, yes, we'll put your testimony on the fliers, now will you _please_ \--" she grabs his arm again and tries to maneuver it back to where she wants it.

"Darling, please, would I let you go unsatisfied?" He grabs one of their packs and places it behind his back, leans against it so that he's propped up, as comfortably as he can probably get using something full of rations and potions, only lightly cushioned with meager clothing. He throws up his hands and a sunny smile, as if to say, "Ta da!"

"A Crow always has a plan! Now," he pats his belly invitingly, "Come lie down, Warden, I've got one last lesson for tonight."

She thinks--very briefly--about pausing to give him a good eyeballing, but he hasn't steered them wrong yet.

He corrects her gently when she moves to drape herself over him, has her lay back so that her ass is snug against his groin, her neck braced against his shoulder.

"Good," he murmurs. "Now this won't stay very comfortable for long--a bed would be better for this--but you're short enough that I think we can all handle it for a little while. Luckily I don't think you or your boy will last very long at all." Before she can get worked up over being called short--and he has some nerve, they're nearly of a height--he's crooking his finger at Alistair. "Come join us, Templar. You wouldn't leave a lady unsatisfied, would you?" She can _hear_ the dirty grin and wink in his voice.

She's surprised to see a matching grin on Alistair's face as he crawls into the spread of their legs, encouraged wide by Zevran's hands on her thighs.

"I believe that was mentioned in one of the lectures on courtly love I received as a child."

Zevran lets out a delighted laugh behind her. "Look at that! All the boy needs is a little confidence!"

She jumps when Alistair's hands land on her thighs, so very large compared to Zevran's slender hands, larger still on the soft skin of her legs. Zevran's hands move over his, drag them up up up until they reach her cunt, until together they move in, stroking her, spreading the liquid steadily leaking out of her around and around until she's shuddering with it.

"Oh--please," she says, and just so her meaning is not mistaken, she pulls a hand up from where it's been clenching in the canvas flooring and wraps it around Alistair's dick, hot and hard in front of her.

He groans, pained, and behind her Zevran says, "Yes," low and intense.

Alistair is fumbling with his cock, quick strokes as he moves forward, and one of Zevran's hands moves up to stroke her belly, soothing, while the other moves back, two fingers inside her fast as anything, checking to make sure she's okay, and then, as Alistair readies himself, those fingers scissor open, thumb stroking the tender lips of her as he holds her open for Alistair.

"Gentle," he reminds, and Alistair looks up at them, nods quick and serious before he's pushing inside her.

It's--it's almost too much. This whole evening has almost been too much; these past _months_ \--compared to what they'll have to do, it's nothing, but here, tonight, it's almost more than she thinks she can handle.

There's Zevran, warm behind her, hand still skimming up and down her belly, kissing her face, his other hand slipping out of her as Alistair slips in, running briefly along the outer edges of Alistair's cock before he returns to her clit, strumming softly as she tries to catch her breath.

And Alistair, above her, inside her, barely breathing himself as he holds himself mostly still, sharp, short shivers echoing from his body to hers, back again to him.

She can't stop herself from moving her hips, just a little, just to see how it feels. Zevran's finger on her clit, Alistair's dick hot and hard inside her--oh! She moves again.

"Good," Zevran breathes against her temple.

Alistair groans when she does it again, low and masculine, and it just makes her hotter, wetter, makes her want to do it again, to feel herself soft and yielding around him.

"Neria, please, I have to--can I?" She's never heard him sound like this, desperate and rough. She can feel the spark in her belly, egged on by Zevran's clever clever fingers, and she uses her own fingers to grab Alistair's broad, strong shoulders, lifts her calves to wrap around his hips, levers herself _up_ , so she has a better grip around his hips, so she pulls him further into herself, hauls him as close as he can get and has to put her teeth in that shoulder, it feels so blighted good.

He lets out a sound like she's hurt him, and his hips jerk forward, into her, before he's pulling back, jerking forward and back like he doesn't know which is better, being inside her or the anticipation of it.

It feels so good, he moves so smoothly in her, that she can't stop herself from throwing her head back, back onto Zevran's shoulder, and his fingers are shaking over her clit just as quickly as Alistair's cock moves in her, and before she knows it, the pleasure is swelling out from her belly, shaking through her legs and curling her toes, setting her fingers in claws in Alistair's back, one long bedazzled moment before she comes back to herself.

Alistair is pink and mottled all over, down his chest, and his hips move frantically for a last few thrusts before he stills, rigid, with a quick hot rush inside of her, before he collapsed down on her.

There's an _oof!_ from Zevran before he starts wiggling out from underneath them. She does her best to lean to one side so he has an easier go of it--by this point she's mostly resigned to being crushed by Alistair every night.

"Maker!" Alistair says into her hair. "That was--that was something else."

She agrees, but she can only muster up enough energy to thump her head a few times between the floor and his shoulder. She can't even contemplate the idea of marching, of fighting the inevitably appearing band of darkspawn tomorrow. _Ugh_. Maybe if she's really lucky, when they wake up it will be raining hard enough that even Sten will agree to staying camped for another day.

She's most of the way to asleep when she's disturbed by a noise. There's an awful lot of rustling going on somewhere in this tent, and if she has to get up and put her clothes on and fight something, she's going to be very unhappy.

Neria heaves Alistair away enough that she can peer around him to see what all that blasted noise is.

Zevran is crouched next to them, with his shirt already on, in the process of pulling on his trousers--the source of the noise. It's no easy task putting pants on in a tent, especially when there's two other people in it and one of them's as large as Alistair.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

The sound of her voice wakes Alistair up enough that he mostly rolls off of her, onto his side so he can look, too.

Zevran is probably too used to this kind of thing to freeze guiltily, but he does pause a moment before he restarts struggling into his pants. "Back to the bedroll for me, my lovely! Wouldn't want Wynne to think I'm off the market!"

She turns so she can meet Alistair's eyes, raises her eyebrows while his own wiggle loudly.

Tentatively, she says, "You could stay?"

His pants are nearly on, but this time there is a definite, measurable pause. "No, really, that is very kind, but not necessary. Warden, you know, and I know," and here his tone moves to sober, serious in a way Zevran so rarely is, "You two may not have very much time left with each other. I will not intrude on it any more than I already have."

"Zevran," Alistair says, and reaches out a hand, "Stay."

She holds her breath, digs her fingers into the closest parts of Alistair she can touch.

They both stare, waiting for long seconds, before Zevran sighs, begins the arduous task of removing his pants again.

She lets out her breath in a gust, presses a kiss to Alistair's shoulder, grateful and full of love to bursting when Zevran takes his hand and pulls him forward, rolls Alistair in between them so they can both press up against him, warm and comfortable, and sleep safe and happy.


End file.
